The Phantom's Physician
by DearRichard
Summary: When Dr. Josephine Hammond agrees to make a house call at the local Opera House she may get much more then she planned. Will she be able to swallow her fears and see the man behind the mask? Not all scars can be seen and not all wounds heal. maybe ErikXOC
1. In which the Physician meets the Phantom

**Hello! I dont own Erik, Madame Giry, the Opera House or anything relating to POTO. I do however own Dr. Hammond.**

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><p>The Phantom's Physician - Chapter 1 - In which the Physician meets the Phantom<p>

The click of footsteps rebounded off the aging stone walls, green with algae and mold. Touch-light cast grotesque shadows as two figures rushed though the small corridor.

"Just a little longer Doctor." The leading figure called back to her companion, her voice hushed in the gloom. She walked with conviction and pride, her strides full of purpose, her arm holding the touch high. The flickering light fell on her face, making her look older then she was and outlined the faint look of panic in her eyes.

Behind her another followed, younger and less sure of their destination. Her green eyes darted from side to side, taking in the details of this less that ideal setting for her work. She had little choice with this Madame Giry paying good money not only for her service but for her silence and it wasn't as if people were breaking down her door, wanting a female physician.

To be truthful, she was not completely sure why it was Madame Giry had come to her. The Opera Populare had re-opened almost 2 years ago after the tragic 'accident' and was as popular, if not more, as it had been before. She remained the head choreographer and was a well respected woman. Neither her nor the Opera would have a problem procuring a more renowned and...male...doctor for even the lowest of staff.

But the fact that the duo was now traveling though the dark and dank catacombs that crisscross under the opera house she doubted this was a normal house call or that it was for a member of staff that needed her assistance. For a moment she entertained her imagination, perhaps it was a hidden child, a bastard of one of the dancing girls and a member of the aristocracy. Or perhaps it was some creature found among the shadows, an orphan lost many years ago, now found and half feral. She shook her head, starring into the green-gray darkness.

It mattered not what awaited beyond the torch-light, only that it was in need of her help. This was her belief, one that had earned her a reputation as a soft and second-rate doctor and it was this belief that landed her her current employment. When she was not crawling though dark, cold halls though a darkness that seemed to live and breath round her she was tended to the ailments of the convicts at the local penitentiary. She regularly was in the company of murderers, rapists, pedophiles, thieves, and freaks.

"We are here" Madame Giry's voice cut though her thoughts. Holding up a hand the older woman signaled her young companion to wait there. In a matter of moments the lair, for room is far to civilized of a word, was lit by a dozen or so candles. "Please, Dr. Hammond, Wait here a moment"

Madame Giry disappeared into a sub-cavern, leaving the young Dr. Hammond alone. Setting her large leather bag on the ground she glanced around, lowering the hood of her cloak so as to get a better look. The place was large and appeared to have been dug out of the very foundation of the Opera house. All around bits of paper, most half-burned, lay in disarray. The charred remains of drapery and tapestries lay among a number of blacked sculptures, many of them disfigured by what looked like melted plastic on the upper right side of their stone faces. Ash and soot pained the stone floor a misty black up until it met the shore of a green-black lake of sorts. Madame Giry had lead them through a tunnel built into the rock that, judging by the shards of broken glass that lay round the entrance, had once been blocked by a mirror. The only thing that appeared untouched by the reminisce of fire was a huge organ that sat high in the center of the crescent-shaped shore. It was grand and masterfully carved and did not appear to have even a speck of ash or soot perverting its dark, cold beauty.

"Dr. Hammond" Madame Giry's hoarse whisper called to her from within the adjoining room. It was a summon and so she collected her bag and began forward. This room was smaller and utterly bare save for a huge stone swan that sat in the center. It was been hollowed out into a large bed, red velvet and black silk covered the mattress. But the majesty of the bed was lost on the young doctor as she saw who it was she had been called here to help.

In the center of the mattress lay a man, almost lost in the layers of bedding. His shirt lay open, revealing a rather hurried and filthy bandage around his chest. She could also see a number of smaller cuts and horrid bruises on his arms, neck and the little of his face she could see. Blotches of thick blood shone on his black velvet pants, a number of large rips and tears showing the damage.

"What the hell happened!" Dr. Hammond stared then shook her head. This was not the time for stupid questions. She rushed forward, kneeling next to her charge. The chest wound was the most pressing. She cut away the bandage and began to clean it, sending Madame Giry to get as much clean water as she could manage, and proceeded to sow the gash closed. With that finished the worked on the cuts on his legs, though there was little she could do now without clean water, having used her own stash on his chest. Few of his injuries were bad, but he did have a broken leg and a number of broken ribs. He continued to lay there, only his soft breathing and faint pulse telling her he was still alive. He was lost much blood but the bleeding had stopped before she had arrived.

Once she had finished resetting the bones and caring for the most pressing injuries she began with the smaller, non-threatening ailments. Then, all too soon, she was out of things to do...all accept tend to the cuts on this strangers face...A face she could only half see for the right side had been covered by a mask as white as fresh snow. On her way here she had entertained herself with thoughts of bastard children and feral orphans but she had not expected this...She ran a finger over the smooth surface of the mask, wandering what it was that lay beneath. She had heard the stories from those who had been there when Christine Daaé had un-masked him before a full-house but knew all too well how stories had a tendency to grow.

Her eyes wandered over this man's face, wondering if it was possible that any of the stories were true. The part of his skin that lay bare was calm and relaxed and handsome in a darker, more exotic way. He had a strong but slim frame, powerful arms and legs that gave the impression of stealth and grace. He was tall, with large hands and the callused fingers of a musician. Asleep now, just about in the arms of death itself, he looked so very human.

Almost against her will her fingers curled around the cool edge of the mask, not wanting to break the image before her eyes but knowing that she needed to. But before she could pull it away from his face a hand reached out to rest on top of hers. Jumping Dr. Hammond pulled away, turning to face the wide, pleading eyes of Madame Giry.

"So its true..." The doctor turned back to her charged, half relieved she could allow this human image to remain in her mind just a little longer. "This is the fabled Phantom of the Opera?"

"Yes" the Madame answered, a strange edge to her voice. "If you have an objection to this work i can understand but i cannot stress enough how much in your...best interest...it is for you to keep this a secret." Dr. Hammond turned and was slightly taken aback by the look in the older woman's eyes.

"Did you bring the water?" was all she said, meeting her gaze. She knew the reason why this respected and important woman had come to a poor, young doctor like herself. No credible doctor in the city would come within a mile of this man and any back-street doctor wouldn't think twice about turning the pair of them in for a hefty reward. So Madame Giry had found her, Dr. Hammond, A woman with little future, no friends or family, nothing to lose but her own honor and beliefs. A woman who did no shy away from the scum of the earth and treated even the most gruesome like they deserved some ounce of kindness. There was no way she could turn her back on this man, no matter what he had done in the past.

"It is here" Madame Giry didn't even try to keep the relief out of her voice. It was strange how after all this man had done she still couldn't bring herself to turn her back on him. how when she found him, beaten and broken she had carried him back here and rushed out to find a doctor with little second thought. This man, despite his horrid transgressions was still like a son to her...and the things we do for our children... "Will he live?"

"I don't know." Dr. Hammond didn't look at her as she wetted a rag in the water and began wiping away the grim. "He was lost a lot of blood and this bruise on his head could have caused a concussion. If he wakes up then he will recover. If not...well, you will have your answer"

After all his wounds had been cleaned Madame Giry left to get the two of them supper, returning an hour later with bread, cheese, pork and some wine. The two woman eat in silence, but their mind's were in the same place. Once she was full Dr. Hammond took over watching the Phantom alone as Madam Giry had business above with the Opera. The doctor's own employer had given her leave for a few days.

When Madame Giry returned she found the young woman sitting next to the bed, a child's rattle in her hands. She gazed down at it sadly, running a finger over the handle, turning it so the beads inside tumbled softly. She knew for a fact this woman had no children...she lived alone and had no family in Paris and as she watched she got the feeling she was intruding on something very private. Clearing her throat the doctor jumped and quickly placed the rattle back in the large leather bag.

The two switched places with little chatter, Madame Giry taking over the vigil and giving Dr. Hammond the chance to stretch her legs. She wandered into the larger chamber and was once again drawn to the huge organ on his massive rock pedestal. She ran her fingers over the keys but dared not press any. Not even a slight layer of dust covered the keys, giving the impression that someone had been here recently and cared for it. Sighing she sat down, resting her head on the smooth side of the organ, remembering that last time she heard live music being played. It had been Peter, his slim fingers tripping clumsily over the keys as she had tired to teach him. They had laughed endlessly that day over Peter's lack of talent, though she knew he was only pretending so the two of them had an excuse. The memory was so saturated in light and happiness that for a moment she forgot were she was and basked in that golden glow. Closing her eyes she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of far away and long ago.

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><p><strong>I would love to know what you think! Should i keep going or scrap it here?<strong>


	2. In which the Phantom meets the Physician

**Hello! I don't own anything relating to PotO exempt this story and Jo Hammond.**

**Also, this story had not been fact-checked AT ALL so sorry for any factual errors. I love you all.**

**Thanks to RoseTheFanFictionLover, Nightbird1995, and AndromedaTodd for taking the time to review. It means a lot! (and thanks to anyone who reviews after i post this)**

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><p>The Phantom's Physician - Chapter 2 - In which the Phantom meets the Physician<p>

"He's awake!" A voice cut through Dr. Hammond's dream like a drop of water on a glassy lake, rippling the image into nothing. She woke with a start, blinked sleepily. A woman kneeled beside her, a relived smile rested on her aging face. It took her a moment to remember where she was and who 'he' was...but only a moment.

"Good" she replied, though it was not what she was thinking. In those hours she had sat by his bedside yesterday, or she assumed it was yesterday for she could not be sure of the exact passing of time, she had wondered if her new charge was not better off dead. This man, this phantom, had caused so many such pain. As she sat beside him watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the two of them alone in the darkness, she had ran her fingers over the soft velvet and silk and thought about how short of a time it would take for the oxygen in his lungs to run out in his current state. She doubted he would even struggle and no one would have to know. No one would miss him, no wife waiting at home, no children wondering where daddy went, no friends to come looking...No one at all.

But neither did she. If she were to dive into the green lake and never surface there would be no one who would care, no one who would ever know. She turned away, unwilling to make the connection between her and him. He was a monster, a murderer and she was a doctor, she saved lives, made them easier. She was human.

So the news that the Phantom was awake came along with a number of mixed feelings. Regardless she stood, grimacing as her choice of sleeping placed came back to bite her. She arched her back, gritting her teeth against the dull pain and rubbed her backside, trying to get the blood flowing.

"Wait." Madame Giry grabbed onto the dark green sleeve of her dress before she could begin towards the next room and her charge. Dr. Hammond turned to protest but it died on her lips. "There are some things you must know."

"O-ok"

"Don't ask to see his face, please. The cuts and bruises there are not so bad. Don't mention Miss. Daaé or the Vicomte or much about the world outside. Answer any question quickly and try not to anger him." Madame Giry wasn't looking at Dr. Hammond but she nodded anyway. Her mouth had grown dry. taking a deep breath she started forward again, this time Madame Giry did nothing to stop her but remained behind.

"Are you not coming?" The young doctor paused, confused. An icy hand gripped her insides.

"No, i am needed above." So she was meant to go in alone, to face the Phantom of the Opera alone. She was meant to kneel in the darkness beside a man who killed simply because you spoke ill of him...alone.

As she turned toward the next room her thoughts from before came flouting back like a whisper in the darkness..._no one would ever know._

It seemed to take hours to reach the entrance to the smaller chamber and it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the place. Dr. Hammond felt light headed and she could feel nothing but a slight tingle in her fingertips. Nothing but fear.

The room had been illuminated by a couple of candles but not enough to banish the shadow's completely. The Phantom sat, his back to her and his legs over the side of the bed. He had changed his clothes, a fact that made her grimace.

"Hello." He lifted his head slowly but it still made her jump. "um, i have to change your bandages and make sure everything is...um...alright."

"You are the doctor?" His voice was quiet but commanded her attention. It was deep and smooth but edged with danger. It rushed over her like a breath of air from within a volcano, a calm breeze before a raging storm. She clenched her hands to hide the trembling.

"Yes. My name is Dr. Hammond." He turned to look at her and she tried her hardest to hide the fear behind a mask of her own, one of determination. His blue- green eyes ran over her slowly, a frown forming on his face. She became very aware of the smudges on her dark green dress and the tangled state of her golden hair. But as he turned away she got the feeling he was disappointed in her, that she was not what he had been hoping for. Suddenly the fear turned into something else...Anger.

Gritting her teeth she started forward, the click of her boots fueling the fire that had suddenly been lit in her belly. She wasn't going to let this _man_ of all people look down on her. She had just saved his life, pulled him back from the flames of hell and he _dared _to turn away from her, to be _disappointed,_ to act as if _she_ wasn't good enough for the likes of _him_.

She collected her bag and placed in on the bed next to the Opera Ghost and looked around for the water. It was sitting on the floor a few feet away from the opposite side of the bed. Glancing at her charge, who had his head down and was staring at the stone wall, she shed her cloak in a huff and gripped it by the two handled and heaved. It lifted a few inches off the ground and she made it 2 steps before her feeble arm muscles gave out.

After two more tries she gave up and began to drag and push it across the floor. The jagged state of the ground did little to help and caused frequent stops and delays. Every so often she would look up to find him still sulking, eyes fixed on the wall. This only fueled her determination.

Suddenly, after what seemed like the thousandth time, the basin caught on a crack in the floor. Having had enough the young woman gripped the handled and pulled. The basin lurched forward and caught her off balance. Tripping over her own feet she tumbled backwards, bringing the basin with her. Landing heavily on her butt she was suddenly drenched in cold water, causing her to inhale sharply. The basin smacked into her forehead causing her to fall on her back and grip her head in her hands, cursing endlessly in English.

She sat up, still muttering angrily under her breath in english and looked around until she met the stormy eyes of the man on the bed. She realized just how comical she must look, her dress soaked, her hair dripping and frizzing out as is did anytime it touched water, a huge welt forming on her forehead, and yet this man's eyes held no mockery. They did not laugh or jeer at her. They were wide and curious, like a boy watching a strange creature.

She blinked, her anger and frustration drained by those eyes, the color of a calm sea, and shook the water out of her hair. She untied the bow on the back of her dress and began to remove it. Alarm flashed across the Phantom's eyes.

"What are you doing?" Panic edged in his voice. She pulled the sopping green fabric over her head. Beneath she was still wearing a white shift and a couple petticoats so it wasn't as if she was bare. she crumpled the dress together and sat on the bed next to him. He jumped up, as if burned.

"I need to wash and redress your wounds, and this is the only fresh water I have." She lifted up the wad of cloth. He didn't move, just stood there. His body language told her just how uncomfortable he was, arms crossed and stance defensive. Sighing she stood. "Fine. Ill just go get some fresh water. But then i might as well get a clean dress and a bite to eat. I may not be back for a number of hours and all the while disease is stewing in those cuts and the stitches in your chest. ill return to find you dead from green-rot and if you don't lie down you will pull out your stitches and then clean water will not matter for you would have bleed to death."

Seeing no other alternative he walked forward slowly. She reached out to help him sit but he pulled away and lay down on his own, though she could tell he was in pain. She began to unbutton his shirt and he squirmed unhappily but let her. She was able to hide just how awkward she felt as she washed and redressed his bare chest, though it was not easy task with him deep, unhappy eyes watching her so intently. She had seen countless numbers of men naked and never had a problem but here, with a man who couldn't even take his shirt all the way off, she could feel the heat just below her skin.

Finally she was finished with his chest and she could hear his sigh of relief. This was a man who had spent his whole life, or most of it, hiding in the catacombs of an Opera House. She would bet the number of times a woman was this close to him could be counted on one hand and the number of these times he was half naked was far less, and knowing what was coming next she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"I...um...need you to take off your pants."

An hour or so later Phantom and Physician tried there best to ignore the other. Dr. Hammond had hung her sopping and now bloodstained dress up and replaced her cloak so as to give herself more cover. The Phantom lay on the bed, back to her and stared at the wall as the candles flickered and danced. She busied herself with reorganizing her bag, muttering softly under her breath.

"You are not French." It wasn't a question. His voice was slightly muffled by his arm. She paused, turning to look back at him. He was watching her, curled up on his side.

"You shouldn't lay like that." She retorted cooly, unsure if he was making fun of her. "You will cause the blood to pool. And no, I'm not French."

"But you are not English either." He mused, re-situating himself so he was sitting up, his back resting on the stone tail of the swan. "I have heard englishmen try and speak French. You sound different."

"I was born in America." She answered, watching him. Madame Giry had told her to not speak of the outside world but to answer his questions. He seemed surprised by this, though it was hard to tell with that cold, hard mask over half his face.

"America..." He repeated quietly. The pair of them sat in silence for a few minuets, only the soft sound of things being placed in the large leather bag disturbing it. "Why leave?"

Dr. Hammond froze, her hand resting on the small rattle she had been looking at before. "I needed a change." She finally answered. "I needed to start over."

"Start over..." He muttered. he could tell she wasn't lying, but that there was much more to it that. She turned to look at him, a haunted look only just leaving her eyes. He was staring at her, his brow furrowed and his eye's attentive. Leaf Green met Blue- Green and held for a few moment until quick steps broke the silence.

"I have brought lunch." It was Madame Giry, a bottle of wine and a sack of food in her arms. She paused, taking in the scene with Dr. Hammond in her petticoats and cloak, her hair soaking and her dress hanging up. The Phantom had redressed quickly and lay on the bed, unable to move much, his pants rumpled and his shirt buttoned wrong. Dr. Hammond quickly replaced all the remaining items in her bag.

"I have to go out and get some more supplies and perhaps a few changes of clothes, if i am going to be here any longer." She pulled down her dress and started towards the door then paused. "Is there a name i can give to the Apothecary shop. Credit is easier to use then paying up front."

"Mine should do." Madame Giry answered.

"It would, if you don't mind all the doctors in the city to knowing I am working for you." She pointed out. Her eyes flicked to the Phantom. "What about yours? I don't imagine many people know it." they locked eyes for a moment, his eyes hard and dark.

"Erik." He answered quietly after a few moments. "My name is Erik." The words sounded foreign on his tongue. He hadn't used it in years and it almost didn't fell as though it was his anymore.

Erik...She liked that name. "Alright then, ill be back in a few hours." she turned to leave.

"Dr. Hammond!" it was the first time she had heard him raise his voice and it made her jump. "What about you? Do you have a first name?"

"Oh, sorry." She thought back and realized she hadn't properly introduced herself. "Its Josephine. Josephine Rose."

"Josephine..." Her repeated it slowly, a habit he seemed to have, felling the words and grinned.

"Until later then...Josephine Rose Hammond"

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><p><strong>Should i keep going? any suggestions? Reviews are made of love!<strong>


	3. In which a suspicion is confirmed

**Hello! I am sorry for the lateness of this chapter, i had to take my MacBook in for repair and didn't want to start a new chapter if they were going to wipe my hard-drive or something...Also, now that i've been writing this for a bit i'm changing the Maturity rating to M (to be safe) and the placement from Humor to Drama...yeah...this story is not turning our at all like i planned...**

**Thanks so much to Nightbird1995, TheTamster, AndromedaTodd, RoseTheFanFictionLover, stained-glass-shadow, and La Belle Marauder for reviewing chapter 2 and to all of you who are watching/have fav'ed this story. **

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><p>The Phantom's Physician - In which a suspicion is confirmed - Chapter 3<p>

Dr. Josephine Hammond pulled back her hair as she examined her face in the small mirror that lay among her possessions, grimacing as she watched a bruise beginning to form. She let her hair fall back into place, staring into the face reflected by the glass. She looked so much older now then she had 2 weeks ago, the first time she had ventured down into this hellish cavern...and her positively demonic patient.

Erik was not a man who was used to limitation. He was also not a man used to a constant companion, especially one who's soul purpose was to enforce those limitations. He was moody, reclusive and refused to be touched by her. He preferred the darkness to even a single candle's light and didn't sleep or eat much at all. But she could have endured this along with his blatant disregard for her authority and instructions...if it weren't for his temper.

She prodded the small lump that was now beginning to form on her lip...at least the bleeding had stopped. His outbursts had become so much more intense as time dragged on, but this was the first time he had actually harmed her physically. Previously he had been...reserved...almost afraid to touch her even in his most violent rages. He usually took it out on the objects that littered his room or, if it were turned on her, in the form of verbal assaults and threats she had no doubts about his ability to carry out.

This particular outburst had come as a surprise to her, almost completely out of the blue. The two never talked, never held long conversations or exchanged more then a few words. If she were to push a subject or start on something he knew would turn into something more then a passing remark he would ignore her or cut it short with a swipe of his brutal sarcasm. It had become something of a a game for her...and him, she suspected. How far can the good doctor pry before the crippled phantom has had enough.

Well, this outburst was proceeded by a conversation...a fact that should have put Dr. Hammond on end from the word go...

She had been wandering around the number of chambers and room that made up Erik's house. She had never been given a formal tour, due to the fact that it's owner was bed-ridden up until a few days ago, but knew or could guess what most of the room were meant for. She was moving rather purposeful around the maze, opening and closing doors quickly.

"What, Good Doctor, are you doing?" Erik's light, musical voice made her freeze. He always addressed her as 'Good Doctor' and had only ever used her given name or surname once, the first day they had met.

"Looking...for something." She turned around slowly. His hazel eyes watched her, amused. She had finally allowed him to get up and walk around at his will this morning and appeared to be in his good grace because of it.

"Your quest would go much quicker if you would simply ask me." he pointed out. Doctor Hammond gave him a suspicious look, having expected a shrug or dismissive comment. "I did build this place with my own two hands." he held up his hands for effect, wiggling the long, slender digits.

"Yeah...well...," she considered ending it here, embarrassed by her quest, but being an extremely curious person she threw her pride into the wind. "Do you _really_ have a torture chamber down here?"

"Yes." He chuckled, a look of self-satisfaction in his eyes. He had long ago changed his half-faced mask to one that hid all of his face, save for his mouth, chin, and eyes so these where her only indication of his moods. She realized that he had known the reason for her snooping long before he began speaking to her. She didn't like being read by a man like Erik, a man who could really do something with that kind of information. "Does that scare you?"

The question added to her unease. His voice was light and pleasant to listen to, tainted with just enough playfulness to make an unweary person forget the danger he posed. To Dr. Hammond he would forever remind her of a sleek, black panther lounging in the shadows of some tropical forest, watching its pray. she decided to be honest. "Not any more afraid then I ever am around you."

"You are afraid of me?" his voice changed slightly, less playful and more...flat, like he didn't have to wait for the answer and was quickly growing bored of the conversation. "even though i couldn't hardly sit up without assistance for the last two weeks?"

"I wouldn't say 'afraid'," she replied quickly, finding she didn't want him to stop talking...his voice had an addictive quality to it...almost otherworldly. "Uneasy perhaps. There is no point in denying that, even now, you are much stronger then me but you're also very intelligent and it wouldn't be in your best interest to harm me...I'm just happy im not treating whoever you fought...assuming there were others"

She could hear the sharp intake of breath as she gave voice to her suspicions. She watched as all reminisce of playfulness drained from his face, replaced by cold, bitterness and a touch of shame. "What would make you 'assume' otherwise?"

"I have treated a patient with similar injuries before, years ago in America. He was a boy about 17 or 18. He had been helping his father re-tile the roof of his barn and slipped. He fell almost 20 feet, would have died if it weren't for the maple they had planted on the side of the building...slowed down the impact just enough...gave him some nasty cuts though. The boy lost an eye but lived. Of course that was an accident, he just lost his footing...," Erik was completely silent, eyes wide and jaw tight. He had though he knew her, how to read her...but he had never guessed she knew... "But you don't strike me as the kind of person to make that mistake...to loose your footing...on accident."

"You knew!" He hissed, grabbing her by the collar of her dress and pulling her forward. she lost her footing and fell. All she could see was the storm raging in this man's eyes, all she could feel was the cold anger that rolled off of him in waves. "You KNEW and you still saved me! You think YOU have a right to choose, to go against MY wishes. Perhaps you think you know better...or think me some kind of coward who has forfeit the right to choose!,"

He gave a hollow laugh, releasing her roughly against the stone wall, running his thin fingers though his slick black hair.

"Perhaps you think i don't _deserve_ such an _easy_ escape, after everything i've done...you felt an eternity in _this _ hell was a better price to pay for my transgressions," he came and knelt next to her, grinning evilly and fixing his dark eyes in hers. "your right about one thing...I _am_ stronger then you..._much stronger_."

He stood, pulling her up by the collar once more, forcing her to her feet unless she wanted to be hung by her own dress, and pinned her to the wall. He could almost smell her fear, feel it at it ran through her small body. He leaned down, placing one hand against the wall, the other tangled itself in her long, golden locks. "You think you know hell?" he whispered into her ear, tugging sharply on her hair, causing her head back and her chest out.

He could smell it now, smell her...roses and fear...thats what this angel smelled like...this woman who thought she could make his choices for him...though she could control his fate...thought she had the _power_ to choose for him. He ran a finger over her cheek, tracing her angular jaw, her soft skin was warm beneath his cold fingers, her body burning against the stone-cold wall. He couldn't have Christine...but perhaps...

He closed his eyes, inhaling the smell of her hair and running his fingers across her neck, tracing the lines and contours of her skin. He had kill countless men in the past, both out of necessity and pleasure...but he had never given in to _this _beast, this monster that slept so patiently under his skin...

He paused as his fingers made contact with moisture. Was she _crying_? somehow he imagined her to be stronger then that...He opened his eyes and looked down at his hand.

Blood.

His middle and pointer fingertips were coated in a wet, sticky scarlet liquid that was dripping down her soft, white chin. He followed the stream up to her lips. Her teeth were clenched, biting her lip to the point of drawing a steady stream of blood. He lifted his eyes a fraction of and inch to make contact with her large green ones.

She was watching him.

He met her gaze and found himself unable to look away. They were not filled the hate or disgust he dad expected. She stared at him, anger and disappointment and surprise etched across her huge emerald eyes.

He released her as if burned, backing away. What the hell was wrong with him. This woman had saved his life, sat by his bedside, dressed his wounds and kept him company...despite her obvious dislike for him and his home...and _this_ was how he repaid her...

Suddenly Erik stiffened, his face utterly blank under his mask. He gave Dr. Hammond a stiff but respectful little bow and hurried down the hall and into the darkness, Leaving the Good Doctor bewildered and alone.

Now, a few hours later, Dr. Hammond had still not seen Erik since he had left her in the hall. She sighed, still slightly flustered and utterly confused. _thats what you get from spending your life shut away from the world..._ she thought and placed the mirror back in her bag and double checked she had packed everything.

She entered the room with the swan bed just as Madame Giry was pouring a cup of wine for Erik, who was lying down, staring at the ceiling. the madame greeted Dr. Hammond happily but Erik made no move to suggest he had noticed.

"Well." Dr. Hammond sighed. "Im off. I've left all my instruction in a notebook on my bedroll. If you have any questions im sure the Opera's doctor would be more then able of answering them for you. I've taken far to many days off work as it is and people might talk if they see you coming to see me Madame Giry."

"Yes, I understand." It was a goodbye, a 'don't call me' sort of goodbye, a definitive, end of a relationship sort of goodbye. She was washing her hands of this place and didn't want to be invited back...But Madame Giry knew just how little personal feelings meant to Erik if the need of a doctor or of a woman like Jo Hammond ever arose. Once you are brought to the attention of the Phantom of the Opera you were not easily forgotten.

It was for this reason that Madame Giry didn't feel sad as she watched the young doctor she had come to like very much leave the room and return to her life on the surface. This wasn't goodbye, she could see Dr. Hammond again...all she had to do was wait.

* * *

><p><strong>Please Tell me what you think! This chapter feels like a bit...much to me. do you agree? any ideas were i should go from here?<strong>


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